


The Gang Work Out and Talk Boys

by ShahHira



Series: The Jester's Quarry [4]
Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Pining, Trans Male Character, binders, hoshino is a wimp, lifting weights and talkin feelings heck yeah, sugiura and higashi friendship, trans sugiura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahHira/pseuds/ShahHira
Summary: Hoshino continues to pine at Higashi's gym, because a half-naked Sugiura will definitely help sort out his feelings. Maybe working out will get it out of his system?
Relationships: Higashi Toru & Sugiura Fumiya, Hoshino Issei/Sugiura Fumiya
Series: The Jester's Quarry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603453
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Gang Work Out and Talk Boys

**Author's Note:**

> it's trans sugiura babeeyyyyyyy contains talk of binders

Ah, the end of a long working day. Hoshino’s a morning person, but there’s a special kind of accomplishment that fills him nicely when the sun is hardly down and he’s done all his tasks and more. A nice walk to look forward to, eat some good food, relax. Catch up on some TV shows, maybe. Yes, a good and low-key way to wind down…

“Hoshino-kun, where are you going? The gym’s this way!”

Today, though, such lazy plans are dashed away. Hefting his workout bag, Hoshino is really wishing he hadn’t mentioned his black belt in karate that one time in Charles...

Sugiura, who’s leading the way, takes them down the east side of Park Boulevard. Then again, he’s seen Sugiura fight before; the thought of seeing his crush up close with no fear of dangerous criminals on their heels makes a very convincing argument. Looking like a wimp in the gym is worth it if he gets to see Sugiura letting loose because Hoshino is weak like that.

They shuffle down the stairs of some shady building on Taihei Boulevard. It opens up into a huge furnished basement. The place kinda looks like a regular gym, complete with exercise machines and weights and punching bags. A familiar face waves them over.

“Higashi?” Hoshino pauses.

“Yeah,” Sugiura confirms. “Said he knew the owner. She doesn’t let just anyone in, so feel lucky.”

“Wouldn’t a regular gym work though?”

He answers that question by looking around at all the yakuza walking around with their tattoos aired out.

“Yo,” Higashi calls out. “Get changed and we’ll get started.”

There are lockers nearby so Hoshino goes, speeding away to hide his flush as Sugiura starts to strip down right there. When he’s back he’s in long shorts and a white t-shirt, rising up from a stretch.

“Hoshino-kun,” Higashi addresses him, crossing his arms. “So you wanna get back into fighting shape. Watch us spar first. Then we’ll adapt whatever moves you like to fit your fighting style and we’ll go from there.”

“Oooooh, I get to fight Higashi-san? What a treat!”

“Heh. Yer soundin’ real giddy for someone who’s about to get their face smashed into the wall.”

They take up their fighting stances, and Hoshino realizes whatever memo he was given is clearly not the same one these two received. He just wants to put a bit of oomph in his punches, not do somersaults on the pavement!

Sugiura feints, and Higashi takes the bait, throwing the first punch. He’s fast, light on his feet and floating on air, so he deftly dodges the kick that’s just grazing his nose. He quickly counters with a grab, getting halfway through a throw before Sugiura wiggles out of it, propelling his body to twist in mid-air before landing on his feet like a smug cat. So much for starting off low-key…

Hoshino may be grumbling, but he is not rejecting the demonstration. The show of raw skill gets his blood pumping, the heat of action wafting from the two. Kamurocho is no stranger to street brawls, and he usually avoids them like the plague - but this little duel has the opposite effect, dragging him in.

“Okay, that’s a good enough warm-up.”

Higashi relaxes his stance. He barely looks worn out in comparison to Sugiura, who is panting heavily.

“Aw, c… c’mon, Higashi! A few more seconds and I woulda had it! Sore loser...” He’s still recovering, hands on his knees, heaving deep breaths.

“Suigura-san?” Hoshino asks, a spike of concern pricking. Sugiura can’t be  _ that  _ out of shape. He’s seen him go through worse! “Are you alright?” 

Suddenly Higashi steps up and guides him up to stand. His stupid tinted sunglasses are still on his face, but Hoshino can see the displeasure furrowing his mouth. They’re whispering about something.

“...still wearin’ that shitty binder all the time?”

“I told you, it’s not shitty.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me why you’re huffing like you ran a marathon.”

“It’s a performance binder, it’s got special breathable material and stuff so you can wear it while exercising!”

“I don't care if it’s made of silk, the stunts you pull are insane, no matter how many years of experience you’re carrying under your belt. Now take that damn thing off.”

It sounds like a heated argument, but Hoshino can hear the worry buried not so deep within his tone. The guy loves to act tough; it’s a good thing he’s such an easy read.

Sugiura wants to argue, but he must realize the same thing as Hoshino. Looking put-off for Higashi’s sake, he walks to the wall and yanks his shirt off, balling it up.

“Stubborn brat,” Higashi mutters, with a tinge of fondness, then sputters when that same shirt lands with a flutter on top his gelled hair.

Hoshino knows he’s in deep when laughing at Higashi, the uptight yakuza, might be a better alternative than being called out for having his eyes very obviously glued to Sugiura. The solid-colored skin tone binder fits him snugly around his chest, and he winces a little when peeling it off and up his arms, folding it neatly in the corner.

“See,” Higashi lobs the t-shirt in the same direction, “told ya it was restricting your movement. Look how easy you’re moving now.”

Sugiura makes to catch the t-shirt, then frowns when it sails past. “Ugh, whatever. Didn’t need the damn shirt anyway...”

“‘Performance binder,’ my ass. We’re getting you a legit one after this.”

“As if you know of reputable sources. A five-second web search from Hoshino-kun can do better than whatever you can scrounge up. Isn’t that right?”

He knows Sugiura is strong, he’s gotta be to pull off those moves… but  _ damn _ , those muscles are toned. Hoshino nods dumbly, not hearing the question.

“Damn kids think they know better than me. Alright! Get to work, let’s see those weak-ass punches you’ve been pulling.”

Higashi isn’t any martial arts master, but the regimen he structures for Hoshino is brutal: to the punching bag until his knuckles are sore, then the treadmill until his legs are sore, and rinse and repeat. The floor starts to look appealing enough by the third set.

Higashi and Sugiura continue their duel nearby, and it’s really hard not to get distracted, shocks of red hair and breathy grunts and sinewy arms flashing past his vision like a supernatural being, just evasive enough for his human eyes to yearn, forbiddenly beautiful. They meet eyes once and Hoshino burns on the treadmill when he  _ winks _ . 

The punching bag has started winning their fights around the two-hour mark - seriously? They’ve been here for  _ only  _ two hours? - and it’s a weird feeling for Hoshino to run out of steam physically but also feel absolutely blessed with the power to go through three court trials back to back with nothing but a glance in Sugiura’s direction, a simple encouraging smile and thumbs up energizing his soul. His punches are weak enough for his conversation with Higashi to float towards him:

“...so whaddya think,” Higashi is mumbling between lifting weights, body language closed off, “I know Kaito-aniki’ll like it, but Yagami? I dunno. Urgh, that asshole always makes things difficult…”

“First things first, don’t call your crush an asshole.”

“I don’t have a-!” The exclamation is automatic, before he pulls himself back, sighing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just… hard to get over, how he was there for him when I wasn’t. I… I like the guy, I gotta admit. He’s impressive. But sometimes I think maybe Aniki’s better off with just him than me buttin’ in.”

Sugiura bumps his shoulder, a supportive gesture. “Hey man, don’t think so negative about yourself. You’re an impressive guy, too. Yagami’s smart, he figured you out for himself, so don’t go jumping to conclusions before you do your own investigation, ‘kay? Now, onto date ideas: I’m thinking drone racing! I know those two are dorks when it comes to their little devil machine…”

Hoshino puts all his remaining energy into one last punch: which the sandbag returns with equal momentum, slamming an exhausted Hoshino straight to the floor. “Can I go home now?” he whines.

The floor is cool, very nice for his heat-addled body. Getting decked is worth it when Sugiura’s glistening torso fills his vision, eyes greedily mapping the gentle jut of collarbone and rolling his head to better fit inside the cup of his palm under the guise of a concussion, bliss filling him. Maybe coming to the gym once in a while isn’t so bad.


End file.
